


Suck On This

by twinkrevali



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Bokuaka - Freeform, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Marking, Mild Language, like two sentences of angst lmao, this is just a giant joke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 05:08:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3716299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twinkrevali/pseuds/twinkrevali
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giving himself a fake hickey seems like a good idea to Bokuto until Akaashi stops talking to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suck On This

**Author's Note:**

> Upon beta'ing this my best friend expressed distress at the fact that Bokuto has to resort to a vacuum cleaner to get a hickey. I don't think you need any more context than that tbh.  
> Enjoy.

“Bro, this is never going to work. You know that, right?” 

“Shut the fuck up and help me position it- this is gonna be awesome, okay? Just make sure you don't, like, make it look perfectly round.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Bokuto? How can I NOT make it perfectly round, you fuck?"

Kuroo Testurou has no fucking idea how a study date ended up being spent developing an evil (and illogical) plot to make his best friend’s crush jealous, but here he is holding a Hoover vacuum cleaner against his friend’s neck and he's got to admit, it's not the strangest thing he's ever done for Bokuto.

They angle the nozzle and hold it there for a minute, the result being an angry looking, slightly ovular mark that would look suspicious even to Kuroo if he didn't know any better. Bokuto seems pretty happy though so he keeps his mouth shut and the two boys continue their schoolwork, Bokuto absentmindedly touching his neck every now and again. Kuroo knows exactly how tomorrow is going to play out; the thought of it alone making him want to turn his phone off, but hey, if Bokuto is happy as he is now then that’s all the black haired boy needs. Besides, he's not the one who’s going to be walking around with a purple Not Hickey on his neck tomorrow.

The next morning, Bokuto marches through the school gates, neck elongated and shoulders pushed back in a prideful show of the mark on his neck. He can hear the whispers and feel eyes on his back, and for a moment he feels his gut twist with nerves, suddenly hyperaware of the spotlight he has focused on himself. He tries to ignore the eyes boring into his back as he makes his way to the main building, grabbing out his phone and dialling a certain number as discreetly as he can 

“Kuroo I think I’ve made a terrible mistake,” he whispers into his phone, staring grimly at the mark in the boy’s toilets.

“How do I get rid of this mark holy shit I fucked up so bad this is never going to-”

“Bokuto.”

Kuroo pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand and prepares to talk a certain grey haired owl out of scrubbing at the thing with fucking toilet paper and hand sanitiser.

“Do you really care about what people are going to say about you?” he starts.

“Do you even remember the first time you spiked up your hair and went around Fukurodani for the first two weeks telling everyone on the team to call you the ‘Ace of Owls’? C’mon man. You’ve got this.”

Kuroo thinks to himself _that should do the trick_ before adding “You’ve also got class. Now get off the phone.” and promptly hanging up.

On the other end of the line, Bokuto looks at the mark in the mirror, slowly puffing out his chest as he considers what his friend has just said.

With an iron resolve, Bokuto walks to class thinking _he really is the best,_ mentally high fiving the black haired spiker for his words of wisdom.

(As Kuroo is walking to class at Nekoma, he feels his hand start to tingle. Ignoring it, he continues to curse his pain-in-the-ass friend and his pain-in-the-ass antics).

Bokuto is surprised to find that his resolve holds up when, as he’s walking to class, he runs into Akaashi in the hallway, the dark haired boy looking at Bokuto in surprise before averting his gaze and offering a polite “Good Morning, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto can feel his ears grow warm as he regards the second year with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry Akaashi! I guess I just wasn’t looking where I was going, caught up in my own head again haha, you know how it is…” His apology comes out weaker than intended, and Akaashi’s eyes flash as he looks at Bokuto again, eyes sweeping over the mark on the grey haired boys neck. He nods once before offering a blunt “It’s fine; it’s not like it’s the first time, right?” and brushing past Bokuto, offhandedly throwing a “See you at practise” over his shoulder.

Bokuto stares after Akaashi blankly, trying to remember the last time he looked so uncomfortable in Bokuto's presence.

As he stares out the widow during class, he fingers the mark on his neck, thoughts wandering idly to Akaashi, the quiet indignation in his voice playing like a broken record in the volleyball captain’s head.

***

That night at practise, Bokuto keeps making stupid mistakes and it’s beginning to take a toll on the team. He caves after the third spike that goes off course, announcing that he’s ‘stepping down from his position of captain’ and ‘Akaashi don’t toss to me anymore because obviously I can’t do anything right’. Akaashi watches him pout for about three seconds before simply saying, “Okay” and calling for Konoha instead. 

Bokuto skulks from the sidelines, frowning at the court until Washio has to slap him on the back and offer him a “Don’t worry about it, Captain! Everyone has their bad days!” The statement perks Bokuto up the tiniest amount, and he finds his mood lifting bit by bit until eventually he’s ready to go back onto the court. His spikes are perfect for the rest of the night, and by the end of practise he’s back to his cheerful self. He bumps into Akaashi again in the storeroom, trying to manoeuvre the basket of volleyballs somewhere between the rolled up volleyball net and the wall. Akaashi stares hard at Bokuto, who’s blinking at him with round eyes, throwing out a nervous “Akaashi!”

His voice breaks, and he clears his throat before apologising to the setter.

“Sorry I bumped you again! Also, sorry I sucked so bad in practise tonight…I just, you know.”

Akaashi looks at the Bokuto blankly before going back to packing up the scoreboard.

“It’s okay Bokuto-san, it’s understandable you’d be distracted, what with your new girlfriend and all.”

The second half of his sentence is so quiet Bokuto nearly misses it, but before he can turn around and ask Akaashi what he’s talking about, Akaashi has bolted out of the storeroom, gathering his schoolbag and uniform and leaving without saying goodbye. Bokuto’s hand finds it’s way back to the mark on his neck, and as he feels his face grow steadily warmer, he begins to wonder whether maybe he _has_ made a terrible mistake and Kuroo was right all along.

As he’s walking home, he makes another call.

“I think I really actually probably fucked up badly, Kuroo,” he starts, not bothering to say hello, and Kuroo sighs through the phone, knowing all too well how the day went down.

“How are you going to fix this?” he asks, because knowing Bokuto, the kid has spent more time worrying about the fact that Akaashi is mad at him rather than how he’s actually going to patch things up with the second year.

Bokuto is silent for a moment before taking a deep breath, muttering, “I gotta tell him I don’t have a girlfriend.” Kuroo can’t help but laugh at that; the thought of Akaashi getting jealous over some girl making him chuckle.

“Just tell him there’s no way you could even _want_ a girlfriend when you’ve got the prettiest setter in the entire prefecture.”

***

After an entire week of being ignored, Bokuto finally catches Akaashi walking home alone one day after school. Calling after the second year with a loud “Akaashi! Over here!” He watches the brown haired boy look around for an escape route before giving up and waiting for Bokuto to catch up.

“Hello, Bokuto-san. Are you going home now?”

There’s almost a hint of desperation in Akaashi’s voice, like his life depends on Bokuto’s answer, and when the silver haired boy answers with a yes, the disappointment on Akaashi’s face is thinly veiled. Bokuto knows that this entire thing is his fault, yet he can’t bring himself to explain everything to Akaashi just yet. The two walk along together in silence until Akaashi murmurs almost unintelligibly “So, how is your girlfriend, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto can tell the boy is trying his best to sound casual, but there’s an edge to his voice that cuts into the upperclassman’s heart like a dagger.

“Actually, Akaashi, I don’t, uh. I don’t have a… girlfriend.”

Akaashi turns to face his captain so quickly Bokuto is worried he’s given himself whiplash for a second before realising the implications of what he’s just said.

“N-no no no, wait- don’t misunderstand, Akaashi,” he tries to backpedal, but Akaashi is staring at him so intently he feels himself start to sweat under the boy’s gaze. He looks at his feet, trying to will away the blush he can feel creeping up his neck before looking back at Akaashi and practically yelling “I told Kuroo we could study together today! Bye!” And crossing the road, moving mechanically as he reaches for his phone to let his friend know he’s coming over.

Akaashi stares after Bokuto in a state of shock, not exactly sure what the fuck just happened. He takes a moment to collect his thoughts before the impact of what Bokuto meant when he said _he doesn’t have a girlfriend_ hits him right in the chest. Walking home on wobbly legs, he types and retypes the same message five times before giving up and sending Kenma something along the lines of “Who could have given Bokuto san a hickey?” Kenma responds with a cryptic “No one. Ask him.” And Akaashi groans, frowning at his screen for the entirety of his trip home, willing Bokuto to call and tell him it’s all just a big joke.

***

“You are just one giant fucking joke,” Kuroo laughs until he cries when Bokuto relays the afternoon’s events, hands covering his face.

“So now he _knows_ you’re not just hopeless, you’re hopelessly gay, too. Oh man. This is too good. I have to tell Kenma.”

Bokuto groans and sits up, throwing a half hearted “Kuroo please don’t” in his friend’s general direction before realising how futile it is to try and dissuade Kuroo of doing something once he’s made his mind up. Before Kuroo can even dial Kenma’s number, though, he gets a text from the quiet boy.

“Kenma says you should confess to Akaashi tomorrow,” he relays. “I’m compelled to agree, even though I was hoping to be there when you did it.”

The smirk in Kuroo’s voice is practically sentient, and Bokuto throws a pillow at him before muffling “Maybe I should skip school for the rest of my life.”

“Maybe you should stop being a fucking baby and just tell the kid you like him.” Kuroo bites back, and this time, Bokuto thinks _yeah. He’s probably right_.

***

When Akaashi thinks back on the whole ordeal, he still shakes his head.

“What the fuck compelled you to go that far, dumbass. And here I was thinking you were more intelligent than that.”

He looks down at Bokuto, who’s grimacing from where he’s lying in Akaashi’s lap. “I thought it would make you jealous?” He offers with an embarrassed smile. “If I had known you’d stop talking to me for almost two weeks I would have just kissed you in the first place, to be honest.”

The two are lazing around in Akaashi’s room and Bokuto is lying between Akaashi’s legs, head resting against his stomach. The morning sun filters through the window, bathing the two boys in a gentle warmth, and as he watches Bokuto tapping away at some game on his phone, Akaashi studies the way the light catches his companion’s eyes; bright flecks of brown and gold almost appearing to jump out their irises, illuminating Bokuto’s entire face. Without thinking, he finds himself leaning over the silver haired boy, who tilts his head up in response to the shift in weight.

The kiss is chaste and sweet, and Akaashi presses his lips to Bokuto’s eyes, cheeks and nose before returning to his original position.

“You know if you were that desperate for a hickey, you could have just asked.” He murmurs, and Bokuto’s eyes snap up to meet the brunettes, dark and mischievous.

“Duly noted.” Bokuto nods curtly, pterodactyls raging in his stomach.

***

The next time Bokuto sports a crimson mark on his neck, Kuroo is proud to announce that it had nothing to do with him or industrial strength hoovers.

**Author's Note:**

> We checked the heck outta this for grammar/plot/general ding dongs but once again if there's anything I can improve on lemme know~*  
> NEW TWITTER THO @brokutobot hmu (•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑


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